


Iäti

by rohkeutta



Series: Mesmeria [6]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Finland (Country), Fluff, M/M, Marriage, Poetry Nerd Bucky Barnes, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Two Meatballs In Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-10-01 04:50:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10181060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rohkeutta/pseuds/rohkeutta
Summary: But then he glances down, at Bucky’s mismatched hands flipping through their record collection. Bucky’s right arm is tanned, golden brown against the light grey sweater he’s wearing, and the wedding ring looks like it’s always been on his finger. The fingers of his left arm make a soft clack-clack-clack against the record sleeves.It’s real. It will always be real, now, and Steve doesn’t realize that he’s staring, his chest swelling with emotion until it’s hard to breathe.Bucky looks up as he pulls out a record, and pauses, a tiny smirk at the corner of his mouth. “Whatcha gawkin’ at, Rogers?”“I never thought I’d get to have you,” Steve blurts out.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Bet you thought you'd get more bitch fics, but alas, no.
> 
> This is the last installment of the Mesmeria series - I wasn't originally going to finish it, even less post it, but here it is anyway. It's unrepentant fluff, because I just wanted to give them something nice and couldn't help myself. So sorry if this ruins the bittersweet tang of the rest of the series, but not actually sorry. Have some more gratuitous homeland advertising and quoting sappy poetry.
> 
> One more time with feeling: [Iäti](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zlnqqm_Wht8) is a CMX song and means freely translated 'for forever'.
> 
> Thanks to [Fox](http://thelittleblackfox.tumblr.com/), [cryo-bucky](http://cryo-bucky.tumblr.com/), and [ellie-nors](http://ellie-nors.tumblr.com) for doing the Lord's work and harvesting some of the weird sentences, extra commas, and grammar abuses I had lovingly planted it this.

Touching down in Helsinki feels a little like coming home.

It’s already getting dark when Steve and Bucky walk through the new airport expansion towards the luggage claim, even though it’s a little after three p.m. There’s some light rain and occasional sleet falling outside, and Bucky looks at it through the wall-length windows with a small smile curling the corner of his mouth.

“Look at this fucking depressing hellhole,” Bucky says, but his voice is low and soft, intimate. “The edge of the world. I’ve missed it so much.”

Steve adjusts the strap of his backpack and puts his arm around Bucky’s waist. Bucky’s overcoat feels soft under his hand. It’s new and expensive, a gorgeous, black wool-cashmere blend from Burberry that makes Bucky look like a million dollars. He’s wearing faded skinny jeans and a pair of clunky boots with it, carrying a cheap teal pashmina scarf and a 300-dollar leather backpack in his gloved metal hand. It should look ridiculous, but Bucky’s all easy grace, combining his old casual, exquisite elegance with Yasha’s unremarkable style, aiming for comfort.

“You haven’t visited lately?” Steve asks in a low voice, putting his hand on Bucky’s hip and stroking the warm fabric with his thumb. “Isn’t Vyborg just across the border?”

Bucky shakes his head. “I had a job in Tampere last spring, but drove straight there from Vyborg, didn’t come via Helsinki.” He’s quiet for a moment, slowing his pace to accommodate the bustling group of Japanese tourists turning to the transfer desk. “It’s like I unconsciously didn’t want to come. Maybe my subconscious knew what was up with this city.”

“Maybe,” Steve agrees and squeezes his hip a little, presses a kiss on Bucky’s temple. Bucky’s eyes are soft as he glances at Steve. Under the airport lights they look almost silver.

The luggage claim for intercontinental flights is quiet. Most of the passengers from their flight from Osaka to Helsinki are continuing on to central Europe, so there’s a moderately thin crowd staring at the luggage belt, willing it to start moving.

Bucky goes to the tiny duty free shop next to the toilets and comes back with a huge bag of Pantteri candies. He looks incredibly pleased as they chew sugar-coated licorice gummies in silence, waiting for their bags.

When they go out through the customs into the arrival hall, Bucky’s expression turns surprised. “What the fuck, there’s an Alepa?” he says, gesturing at the small grocery store on their left. “Since when?”

“And Starbucks,” Steve says, echoing his bewildered tone.

Bucky laughs a little. “Jesus, what a way to realize how much time has passed. They’ve gotten a _Starbucks._ ”

**

When Bucky opens the door of their apartment on Eino Leinon katu, the smell of dust and stale air rolls out. Steve takes a step back in horror.

“Jesus wept,” Bucky says and makes a face. “This is nasty. Why didn’t we leave the ventilation window open when we left for Moscow?”

“That window would’ve been open for four years, Buck,” Steve reminds him drily.

Bucky waves his hand airily. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. When’s the cleaner coming in?”

Steve checks his watch. “Fifteen minutes. Good timing.”

“Great,” Bucky says and steps very carefully inside, not willing to disturb the dust. Steve stands at the door and watches him creep to the window and yank it open. Fresh air bursts in, and Bucky creeps back to the door, gestures for their luggage. Steve hands it to him and he slides the foyer cabinet open, dumps the bag inside and closes the door. “We better wait outside.”

They stand in the stairwell for ten minutes with the door open, Steve’s arm around Bucky’s shoulders, and then the buzzer sounds. Bucky answers it, saying something in Finnish, and buzzes the cleaner in.

The cleaner’s a young man around his twenties, laden with a professional vacuum cleaner.

“Hi,” Steve says, smiling at the guy. “Thanks for coming. Hope you’ve got a dust mask or something. Like I said in my email, our place has been on its own for four years.”

“Yeah,” the guy grins, thrusts out his hand. He’s got sandy blond hair and an easy smile. He reminds Steve of Clint, a little. “You must be Steve. I’m Sami. Your place is in good hands.”

“Good to meet you,” Steve says, shaking his hand. “This is Bucky.”

“Moi,” Bucky says, saluting Sami.

Sami salutes him back, grinning. “Moi,” he greets and pulls out a construction-style face mask. “You guys can go, I’ve got this.”

“Here’s the key,” Steve says and gives it to him. “You’ve got my phone number. We’ll be back in one and half hours.”

Bucky says something in Finnish that makes Sami laugh, and then Sami snaps the mask on and disappears into their apartment with the vacuum, closing the door.

“Come on,” Bucky says and starts tugging Steve away. “I want coffee and a cinnamon roll.”

“What did you say to him?” Steve asks, curious.

“Why, Steve,” Bucky grins, batting his eyelashes at him, “are you getting jealous?”

“I’ll show you jealous,” Steve threatens, but spoils it by leaning down to kiss Bucky and pulling his hand into the crook of Steve’s arm. Bucky laughs at him, leaning against Steve’s flank.

It’s already fully dark as they stroll across Sibelius park towards Cafe Regatta. The trees are bare and crooked, and under the yellow streetlamps the park looks gloomy and a little sad. But there are people all around them - hurrying home in their dark overcoats with swinging safety reflectors, walking their dogs, jogging towards the path following the seashore - and Steve revels in the familiarity of it.

He doesn’t know which he’s missed more: the city, or walking in the city with Bucky.

Cafe Regatta is barely half-full, and Bucky squeezes Steve’s hand tightly as they step into the cardamom-smelling hut. Bucky’s quiet as Steve orders two coffees with korvapuusti and steers him towards the corner table.

“It’s strange, isn’t it,” Bucky says finally, when he’s tearing his cinnamon roll apart, eating the little more baked outer layer first. “I never thought I’d get back to this place, but here it is, and here we are.”

**

Steve wakes up in the small hours, automatically reaching out to Bucky’s side of the bed and finding only empty space, still faintly warm. He rolls out of bed and pads to the door of the bedroom, making his way in the dark.

Bucky’s sitting at the kitchen island, holding a mug with both hands, staring down at it. He’s shirtless, hunched into himself, his shaggy hair covering his face. With the yellow light of the streetlamp as his background, Bucky looks small and vulnerable, a lean silhouetted statue.

Steve watches him for a minute, then turns and tiptoes silently back into bed. It might be the jetlag keeping Bucky up, but it also might be the constellations of bottomless pits under his skin, and if he’s in the kitchen, it means he wants to be alone.

The night is quiet outside, oddly still after the creaking floors and next-room snoring of the familiar guesthouse they’d stayed at in Kyoto.

Bucky slides back into bed two hours later, rousing Steve. Bucky keeps the distance between their bodies, but his chilly hand creeps across the crevasse between them, and touches Steve’s little finger softly.

Steve curls his finger into a pinky hold, and they fall back asleep like that, safely apart and yet together.

**

“It won’t be a literal marriage,” Bucky’d said softly in early November, when Steve had brought up the prospect of marrying in Helsinki. “Same-sex marriage won’t be legal there before 2017. The best we can get now is registering a civil partnership.”

“I don’t care, Buck,” Steve replied, spreading more sunscreen on Bucky’s back. “They can call it whatever the hell they want, I’ll still be putting a ring on you.”

They’d been hanging out poolside in Siem Reap, sweating under the late afternoon sun. Bucky was perched at the end of the deck chair with his knees drawn up, his head pillowed on his arms, clad only in a pair of swim shorts and the synthetic skin sleeve for his prosthetic. Steve was sitting cross-legged behind him, his hands sliding on Bucky’s scarred skin, up and down that perfect, warm arch.

“Tying the knot with you is all I care about,” Steve said quietly after a short silence, watching Bucky melt into his touch; the miles of golden skin and relaxed muscles. “And I’d like to do it in the city I proposed to you in. Their government can say that it’s a civil union, but I’m gonna marry the shit out of you anyway.”

Bucky snorted. “My hero,” he teased, but his voice was fond, and he leaned back a little to press himself better into Steve’s hands.

Steve let his arms slip around Bucky’s ribcage, absently digging his fingers a little into the loose muscles under his skin, and leaned in until Bucky’s sun-warm back was against his chest. He hooked his chin over Bucky’s shoulder, watching the chattering birds on top of the hotel backyard fence. Bucky’s eyes were closed, his face tipped up to the sun.

They sat in silence for a long while. Then Bucky said, “Okay. Let’s marry the shit out of each other in Helsinki.”

Steve grinned against his stubbled cheek, and they stayed like that until the old French couple a few floors below their room came out to the pool and threw them a mildly offended look.

Bucky’s hand twitched, like he wanted to flip them off, and Steve squeezed him again, pressed a kiss against Bucky’s ear and pulled back to pick his book up again.

Bucky called the magistrate the next day.

**

They get married barely a week before Christmas. They take the bus to the magistrate’s office, sitting quietly next to each other and holding hands. It’s an overcast day, a little gloomy, and the bus is quiet in the early afternoon lull, just a handful of other passengers traveling from Töölö to Punavuori district.

In the magistrate’s office, they peel off their scarves and overcoats and go to the reception desk, from where they are directed towards the clerks’ offices. There’s a thin crowd sitting in the corridor, waiting for their slots: just a few couples, some looking like they came in on their lunch break from work, one clearly dressed up for a wedding.

They didn’t really dress up, even though it’s a special occasion: Bucky got a haircut, and Steve bought a new sweater from Stockmann, and that was it. As a result, Bucky’s looking like his usual million bucks in cashmere and skinny jeans, and Steve looks like an awkward single dad.

They’re the only same-sex couple waiting for their appointment for registering the civil partnership, but nobody gives them the stink-eye. This would be the last place for anybody to disapprove of them, Steve thinks, glancing around. The civil marriage is for less conservative people anyway, and all of them are there because they’re in love with somebody.

They’re called in. The clerk eyes Bucky’s gloved left hand and the engagement ring on his right hand as she checks their papers and calls two other employees in to be their witnesses, but is clearly too polite to ask.

“Sotavamma,” Bucky says to her and the two other clerks, who also give his hand curious looks. “Se on proteesi.”

She makes an understanding sound, and her expression softens. Steve’s pretty sure that Bucky is trying to fish for sympathy points.

Fifteen minutes later they’re married.

**

When they get back home from the celebratory dinner, warmed by good food and wine, Steve waits until Bucky’s unlocked the door before scooping him up without a warning.

Bucky lets out an indignant sound, swatting at him. “What the fuck are you doing, put me down!”

Steve shrugs, jostling him in the process. “Aw, sugar,” he says. “I’m just carrying my new husband over the threshold.”

“Oh no, you’re not,” Bucky huffs, but Steve’s already stepping in and pulling the door closed with his foot behind them. He sets Bucky down and dips him into a ridiculous kiss in the hallway.

Bucky's laughing against his mouth but kisses back, hikes his leg up to hook behind Steve’s ass. “My hero,” he says drily when Steve pulls him up. “You’re a hopeless sap, Rogers.”

“Watch it, Mr. Rogers,” Steve grins back.

Bucky scoffs, but he’s smiling, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Like hell I’m taking your boring middle-class name. Go make us coffee.”

Steve goes, and while the coffee is brewing, he watches Bucky puttering around the flat, sleeves pushed up to elbows. With the new haircut Bucky looks so much like himself from before Moscow that for a moment Steve feels disoriented, cocooned in a bubble where he’s still in Limbo, willingly trapped with Bucky’s ghost.

But then he glances down, at Bucky’s mismatched hands flipping through their record collection. Bucky’s right arm is tanned, golden brown against the light grey sweater he’s wearing, and the wedding ring looks like it’s always been on his finger. The fingers of his left arm make a soft _clack-clack-clack_ against the record sleeves.

It’s real. It will always be real, now, and Steve doesn’t realize that he’s staring, his chest swelling with emotion until it’s hard to breathe.

Bucky looks up as he pulls out a record, and pauses, a tiny smirk at the corner of his mouth. “Whatcha gawkin’ at, Rogers?”

“I never thought I’d get to have you,” Steve blurts out.

Bucky blinks, a little startled, and puts the LP down. His face is serious in an instant. “What do you mean?”

Steve swallows and rounds the kitchen island, his feet moving of their own accord. “I wanted you for a long time before Phnom Penh,” he says, confessing this out loud to Bucky for the first time. “Even if I acted like I didn’t, because I was scared. But I-- I used to dream about this, sometimes. A proper home, for the two of us. You. Marrying you, even. I never thought I’d get to have you, but I did, and after-- after Moscow--”

Bucky takes a step towards him, and his expression is terribly open, tender and wonderful and so longing, and Steve loves him ridiculously, not even realizing when he starts to tear up.

“Steve,” Bucky says, and Steve reaches for him, crushes them together like he wants to worm under Bucky’s skin and stay there.

“I got you once, and then I got you back again,” Steve says against the soft, thick hair behind Bucky’s ear. His mouth feels like it’s full of cotton, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m the luckiest son of a bitch in the world.”

“Steve,” Bucky says again, but doesn’t elaborate, just presses the wetness around his eyes against Steve’s neck.

They stand together like that for a while, and then Bucky pulls back, frames Steve’s face with his hands and swipes his thumbs over the thin skin under Steve’s eyes, still stained by tears. His eyes are shiny, but he’s smiling; a soft, undeniably happy curve in the corner of his mouth, a dimple sinking into his cheek.

 _“I feel your eyes travelling, and the autumn is far off,_ ” Bucky says softly, his voice taking the familiar cadence that used to surface when he was quoting poetry, _“grey beret, voice of a bird, heart like a house._ ”

Steve chokes out a strange, wrecked sound, a half-laugh, half-sob, and Bucky smiles, leans in to kiss him. _“Toward which my deep longings migrated and my kisses fell, happy as embers._ ” He’s silent for a couple of breaths, and then says quietly, “The coffee’s ready, honey.”

Steve squeezes him a little, dips his head down to kiss that happy upticked mouth, the flushed cheek. He smiles, feeling the dimple deepening under his lips, and says, “After you, sugar.”

*****

_olisitko ihmeellinen laulu onnen sävellajissa_  
_tai viljapelto auringon kajossa kultainen_  
_äärimmäinen haaste minun väsyneelle mielelleni_  
_siellä missä tähdet piirtää pääsi ylle korkeinta kruunua_

_could you be a marvellous song in the key of happiness_  
_or a wheatfield, golden in the sunshine_  
_an extreme challenge to my exhausted mind_  
_where the stars draw the highest crown above your head_

[ _CMX - Myrskyn ratsut_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dE9VkVXfNN4)

**Author's Note:**

> Bucky is indeed fishing for sympathy points; "Sotavamma. Se on proteesi" translates directly to "War injury. It's a prosthetic."
> 
> The poem Bucky quotes in the end is [I Remember As You Were](https://allpoetry.com/I-Remember-You-As-You-Were) by Pablo Neruda.
> 
> The equal marriage law finally came into effect in Finland on the 1st of March 2017. You bet Steve and Bucky were the first in line to change their civil partnership into a marriage.
> 
> My tumblr is [here](http://rohkeutta.tumblr.com).
> 
> Thank you to everybody who's been reading this series and leaving comments and kudos - each and every one of them is highly appreciated and cherished. This series has meant - and means - a lot to me, and I'm always really happy to see it getting some love.


End file.
